THE MAHABHARATA: A Modern Rendering, Vol 1 (52 page)

TWO THE KING’S BROTHER
 

Meanwhile, back in Hastinapura, Dhritarashtra was suffering. He hardly slept and when he did terrible nightmares ravaged him. One day, he sent for his brother Vidura.

The blind king said, “The people have no love left for me or my sons, or, indeed, for anyone in the palace. They speak scornfully of us. I know my princes and Pandu’s are equal in your eyes. Comfort me, Vidura; give me some counsel that will benefit my sons as much as the Pandavas.”

Vidura said, “To my mind it is quite clear what will help both, but I fear you will not like my advice. Bitter medicine heals the ailing system; but are you prepared to drink bitter medicine, Dhritarashtra?”

“Tell me, Vidura, I am listening. Remember it must be good for my sons and Pandu’s. It must win back the people’s hearts.”

“You must send for the Pandavas and restore Indraprastha to them. The world will know you have repented. The Pandavas will forgive you, the people will forgive you; and, in time, their forgiveness will wash away your sin. Everyone will say that Dhritarashtra atoned for the crime Shakuni contrived.

If you do not do this, prepare for nemesis. I warned you; Narada came to say the same thing. Death stalks you even now, but you can still save yourself. Swallow the bitter medicine of repentance, Dhritarashtra; free yourself from guilt and terror. This is the only remedy for you.”

The king sat silent. Encouraged that he had made some impression on his brother, Vidura continued, “The Pandavas are kshatriyas; they are men of their word. They have sworn revenge and revenge they will wreak on you and your sons. For, the truth is with them. But if you relent now and give back what you took from them by deceit, Yudhishtira will forgive everything. I know him, he is not a vengeful man; and if he forgives you, he will dissuade his brothers from seeking revenge.

This is the only way, my lord, to avert the retribution that must follow your crime, as night does the day. Otherwise, there will be no escape for Duryodhana and his brothers when the Pandavas return.

You love your son too much, Dhritarashtra and that love clouds your reason. If Duryodhana does not agree to return Indraprastha to the Pandavas, then offer Hastinapura also to Yudhishtira.”

Still, Dhritarashtra was quiet. Then Vidura saw warning signs on his brother’s face: his cheek twitching, the lips working. He saw the king’s hands quiver and next moment, Dhritarashtra cried, “All you want is glory for Pandu’s sons and what matter if mine are ruined? It is easy for you to give such lofty advice. You have no children; or you would not tell me to sacrifice my own son for the sake of my brother’s boys.

I will not do it, Vidura! Duryodhana is more precious to me than Yudhishtira and nothing in heaven or earth can change that. As for your noble advice, I have had enough of it. It torments me, so your purpose is served. I called you here because I thought you could comfort me in my anguish. For in my way, I also care about Pandu’s sons.

But what do I get from you? Words! Glib, cruel words that multiply my pain a hundred-fold. I cannot bear it any more!”

The king shut his ears with his hands, as if that would keep the words that had entered his heart like fire from burning him. In a rage he cried, “I have no further need of you, Vidura. Leave my city!”

Dhritarashtra rushed out of the room. Vidura sat alone briefly, then, decided he must leave Hastinapura at once. He would find the Pandavas and spend their exile with them. What could make him happier?

The same day, with a few possessions and his heart alight, he rode out of the city he had served for so long. Asking villagers, fisher-folk and gypsies which way the Pandavas had gone, he followed them. He came to the great tree beside the Ganga and forded the river. He rode on and came to the Yamuna, where he met the ferryman who had taken his nephews across. This man took Vidura over as well and pointed him after the princes. On rode Vidura, a song on his lips and feeling light as the breeze in his face, until he saw the golden Saraswati and, looming on her banks, the deep Kamyaka aranya.

Vidura entered the jungle on foot and, asking directions from rishis who meditated under the old trees, made his way to the clearing where Yudhishtira and his brothers had built their asrama.

The Pandavas sat with their brahmanas and some forest hermits, in the shade of the spreading nyagrodha. Yudhishtira saw his uncle and rose in excitement. “It is Vidura!”

Then, he was anxious. “Why has he come? Has Shakuni sent him to call us to another game of dice? Do they want to take our weapons from us now? Or has he come with a declaration of war from Duryodhana? That should make you happy, Bheema.”

Then, Vidura was near and Yudhishtira ran forward and hugged his uncle. Vidura embraced his nephews. When Draupadi came out of her kutila, he stood stricken to see her: Drupada’s daughter, the fire-born princess, the Pandavas’ wife, empress of all Bharatavarsha, with her hair loose, no ornaments on her body and dressed like a hunter’s wife.

Vidura wept. When he calmed down and they gave him water to drink, he sat with them under the shady tree and told them about his last meeting with Dhritarashtra.

“The king is like a sick man who cannot stand the sight of food. He wants no cure for his sickness. He said to me, ‘I have no further need of you, Vidura. Leave my city!’”

Vidura sighed. “I was foolish to think he would listen to a voice of sanity. He has gone too far down the path of evil. Perhaps, I shouldn’t have tried to make him do the right thing, but just comforted him.”

The Pandavas knew Vidura’s regret was genuine; he loved his brother and was protective of him. He had been Dhritarashtra’s eyes and his only support since Pandu left Hastinapura. Yudhishtira consoled his uncle as best he could and Vidura spent some idyllic days with his nephews in the forest. Yet, his mind always turned back to Hastinapura and its blind king, for whom he felt deep pity.

Meanwhile, when he found he could not live without Vidura, Dhritarashtra bitterly regretted what he had said to him. The king was in agony and he knew the only person who could comfort him was his brother. Next to Duryodhana, strange to say, it was Vidura that Dhritarashtra loved; and committed though the king was to an evil course, he yearned for his brother’s gentle presence. They had grown up together and despite their divergent natures, or perhaps because of them, Dhritarashtra longed for Vidura, as night longs for day, as darkness does for light.

Just a week after his brother left Hastinapura, Dhritarashtra sent Sanjaya to tell Vidura he was sorry and to bring him back. Sanjaya arrived two days later in the Kamyaka on horseback, while the Pandavas and their uncle sat at their midday meal under the nyagrodha.

Sanjaya was an honorable man and the Pandavas had known him since they first came to Hastinapura. Yudhishtira rose and received him affectionately.

“Welcome, Sanjaya! You are just in time to share our meal. Come, sit down and eat with us.”

But Sanjaya was in a hurry. He said to Vidura, “My lord, the king is ailing and asks you to return to Hastinapura. He begs your forgiveness and says he cannot live without you. You are his eyes in this world and now he truly knows what it is to be blind. Will you go back with me? The king has taken to his bed in grief. I fear for his life, if you do not come at once.”

Vidura had been on his guard, the moment he saw Sanjaya. He feared some new treachery from Shakuni or Duryodhana. Sanjaya’s manner and his mission were so transparent Vidura quickly had tears in his eyes.

He sighed and said to Yudhishtira, “My brother is not all evil. Somewhere behind Dhritarashtra’s many masks, hides a good man. His blindness has made him weak, or he would be greater than us all. That and his love for his son. Ah, if he had listened to me on the night that devil was born. If only he had killed Duryodhana before the boy grew up, so dashing, so charming and shrewd: a young man no father’s heart could resist.”

He shook his head and admitted wryly, “Well, perhaps Dhritarashtra was right and Duryodhana too, when they said life was less simple than what I would like it to be. Fate must have other purposes beyond the simple goodness for which I so devoutly wish. There must be deeper designs in the world than the likes of me can fathom.”

Sanjaya waited for Vidura’s reply. Yudhishtira asked gently, “Will you go back since the king has sent for you?”

Vidura seemed distracted for a moment. “Go back? Yes, of course I must go back. My brother is plunged in darkness and he begs me to come to him. How can I refuse? We grew up together and we are still brothers. Come, Sanjaya, let us set out. Happy as I have been with these noble sons of my Pandu, we must leave at once.”

Vidura took Yudhishtira aside and said quietly to him, “He that forgives despite every suffering he endures, surely triumphs and becomes master of the world. For only he who is a master of himself can be the lord of this earth.”

Vidura eyes were moist again as he embraced his nephews and blessed Draupadi when she knelt before him.

“Look after this queen, she is the rarest treasure!”

He mounted the horse Sanjaya had brought for him and rode back to Hastinapura where his heart had always been. Now, he went with no hope of convincing Dhritarashtra to return to the path of dharma. He only went home to stand by his brother, during the punishment that must follow the sin the king had encouraged.

When Vidura went back, Dhritarashtra hugged him and sobbed, “Forgive me, Vidura! Forgive me for hurting you.”

Vidura put his arms around him and said, “I am here, my lord. You are my king and there is nothing to forgive. Your sons are as dear to me as Pandu’s; only, the sons of Pandu seemed to be in trouble.”

They held each other, with tears streaming down their faces.

THREE THE RISHIS’ WARNING
 

Bheeshma and Drona were relieved Vidura had returned. But Duryodhana was anxious when he saw that, now, his father and his uncle had grown even closer.

One day, when Shakuni, Dusasana and Karna were with him, that prince said, “My high-minded uncle’s influence is greater than ever. There is no telling when Vidura will convince my father to bring the Pandavas back. Shakuni, think of some way to stop the king from listening to that interfering son of a maid. I know what it is to sleep at nights again and I would rather die than have my cousins return.”

But Shakuni laughed, “You are forgetting our Pandavas are men of dharma. They are so noble they are scarcely human. The fools are so honorable that, even if Vidura persuades your father to call them back, they will refuse to return. You saw how none of them opened his mouth when Dusasana dragged Draupadi into the sabha. Their reason was that she had been lost fairly at dice!

Have no fear. They will not come back for thirteen years, not if your father begs them.”

Duryodhana looked unconvinced. Shakuni smirked, “Even if they do, we can always have another game of dice, which the perfect Yudhishtira can never refuse.”

The others laughed, but Duryodhana looked ill at ease. “No, Shakuni, your reasoning is facile. I have no peace since Vidura returned; he sits whispering in my father’s ear all day. We must think of something else, before the king hands Indraprastha back to Pandu’s sons.”

Karna, the essential warrior, said, “Let us take an army to the forest and finish them off. It will be easy as killing children and it will end the division in the Kuru family: only one branch will remain!”

Duryodhana’s eyes shone. “And when the earth has drunk my cousins’ blood, I will finally have peace. The nightmare, which began when Pandu’s sons first arrived in Hastinapura, will be over. They were born in the jungle, let us kill them there.”

Karna cried, “Muster a legion and let us ride today!”

They decided to go without telling Dhritarashtra. As Karna said, “By the time the king finds out, it will be too late. And not even the holy Vidura can call the Pandavas back from the dead.”

But before the Kauravas could ride, Vyasa appeared in the court of Hastinapura. He said to the king, “Stop Duryodhana from the madness he is plotting. If your son goes to the Kamyaka vana, he will die. Let him be satisfied with the thirteen years he has won by deceit; and if their kingdom is not given to the Pandavas when they return, the world as we know it will end.

Listen to me, O king and you, foolish prince.” Duryodhana was astounded Vyasa knew what he meant to do. “Make peace with the sons of Pandu, restore dharma to the kingdom; or such a curse will fall on you that you will rue the day you were born. Duryodhana relent. Beg your cousins’ forgiveness; turn away from evil and all will be well again. Otherwise, you will die.”

Duryodhana grew pale. But his heart was strong and hard. He said nothing to Vyasa; indeed, his grandfather was one person who inspired some fear in that prince. However, the Kaurava was determined to take an army to the forest and have done with his cousins. After the wonderful game of dice, Duryodhana was convinced his lucky star was rising and his time of fortune had come. Even the astrologers in the palace had told him that for thirteen years he would enjoy the best time of his life. What troubled him was what would come after thirteen years; that was what he wanted to settle in the jungle.

But what Vyasa said shook Dhritarashtra. “Father, my mind is swayed by love for my son. I can no longer tell right from wrong. You say what we should do.”

Vyasa looked at Duryodhana and, seeing clearly into his heart, murmured, “I don’t believe what I say here will be honored. Yet, someone else is coming to Hastinapura to speak to you. Rishi Maitreya has been in the Kamyaka aranya with Pandu’s sons. Ask his advice, if you think I am prejudiced.”

Vyasa left with a searing look at Duryodhana. The prince turned his eyes away; the rishi gazed into the darkness in his soul and filled him with panic.

After Vyasa left, Dhritarashtra turned to his son to beg him to abandon his mad scheme, when the profound Maitreya was announced. He was a tall muni, with flowing white hair and beard and great eyebrows chafing each other above his splendid eyes. The sabha rose when he entered and his presence dwarfed all the rest.

Dhritarashtra touched Maitreya’s feet and sought his blessing. Only Duryodhana did not rise from his place. The muni glared at the prince, but he stared brazenly back at the sage.

When Maitreya was seated, Dhritarashtra said, “Maharishi, we hear you have been in the Kamyaka aranya. We are eager for news of our nephews.”

Maitreya made no reply immediately. His brows bristled, his eyes glittered and his silence was unnerving. The king’s palms were damp, though his face betrayed no emotion.

At last, in measured tones Maitreya said, “I have, indeed, been with the Pandavas. I heard about the shameful manner in which they were banished, while this sabha sat by and watched.

I had not dreamt the House of Kuru would fall so low. Are you a king, Dhritarashtra, or a thief: that you allowed, no, abetted such a crime? Bheeshma, how did you tolerate this sin? I am surprised and I fear for the future of not just this ancient house, but of Bharatavarsha. I had thought that not the worst kshatriya would stoop to cheating his own blood, out of envy and greed. But I see times have changed.”

The muni’s eyes flashed at Duryodhana and Shakuni. He went on sadly, “Surely, the kali yuga is near, that such a crime could be committed not just in any kingdom, but in the sabha of Hastinapura. Worst of all, I heard what happened with the chaste Draupadi: sin beyond forgiveness! Oh, Bheeshma, Drona, you watched the Pandavas’ queen being dragged in here by her hair and you did nothing to Dusasana? You watched mutely when he tried to strip her naked. You should have had his head; or banished
him
, at the very least. But you did not say a word.”

He shook his head, as if he still could not believe it. “The world is surely coming to an end and a savage one. Evil days fly swiftly at us, that such a sin was committed in the sabha of the noblest house on earth. Hear me well, Kurus: at the end of thirteen years, terrible retribution will fall on you. Then, who will contain the wrath of the Pandavas?

Who will stop Arjuna with his Gandiva? Think only of Bheema and relent from fear. You have all heard how Hidimba died and Baka and Jarasandha. Now, in the Kamyaka, Bheema has slain Kirmira. Do you know how strong these rakshasas were? Fell masters of the wild earth, until they met the son of the wind.

Don’t let envy lead you to your deaths. It is the Avatara’s kin you have made your enemies; sons of the Devas and Drupada’s sons-in-law, besides. Relent, Dhritarashtra and you, foolish Duryodhana. Go and call the Pandavas back today. Restore their kingdom to them and beg them to forgive you.”

Duryodhana sat tracing an invisible pattern on the floor with his foot, smiling impudently to himself. He did not bother to look up as the rishi spoke. Now, to mock the holy one the Kaurava slapped his thigh with a loud report.

Maitreya turned on him in fury, “Insolent Kshatriya, I curse you! Bheema will break that thigh you are so proud of and you will die.”

His voice was so fierce even Duryodhana was taken aback. He felt a shadow upon his spirit, as of death. Yet, he maintained his laconic expression, of not caring. He still drew on the floor with his foot and smiled to himself.

Dhritarashtra cried, “Muni, everything my son says and does is from ignorance. I beg you on my knees, take back your curse.”

Maitreya replied, “Your son does not believe in a rishi’s curse. Otherwise, he would not mock me as he does.” But when he looked at Dhritarashtra, who actually knelt before him, his face softened. “Very well. I cannot withdraw my curse, but I will tell you how you can turn it away. Make peace with the Pandavas and my curse will not come to pass.”

With that, Maitreya rose and made to leave. Dhritarashtra said weakly, “Must you go so soon? Won’t you tell us how Bheema slew Kirmira, of whom we have heard so much?”

Maitreya did not say another word but walked out of the palace and that once noble city.

Dhritarashtra’s sabha was perfectly quiet when the muni had gone. Duryodhana got up and strode out with Shakuni, Karna and Dusasana. After a while, Dhritarashtra turned plaintively to Vidura. “You met the Pandavas in the Kamyaka. Maitreya Muni said Bheema killed Kirmira. What happened? Why didn’t you tell me this before?”

Vidura said, “I did not want to make you more anxious than you were. But I will tell you what happened; our nephews did mention their encounter with Kirmira.”

This is the story Vidura told his brother. Some days after they left the palace, the Pandavas arrived in the Kamyaka vana at nightfall. They entered the jungle by darkness and all was still around them as they made their way by rushlight and the light of the moon, whenever his beams broke through the trees. They hoped to find a suitable clearing in which they could build an asrama for themselves.

They had walked an hour into the black jungle when they came upon a clearing and saw two fiery eyes blazing at them from such a height the princes first thought they belonged to an owl. A stench of rotting flesh hung in the air.

Draupadi clung to Yudhishtira. The moon streamed down on the clearing and they saw an enormous rakshasa before them, carrying a lighted brand. In a soft and awful voice, he said, “Who are you, strangers, whose flesh is so fragrant? Why have you come out from your cozy homes to make me a meal?”

He came near them and Draupadi swooned just to look at him. He was tall as two men and his skin shone a dull green. His hair was long and tangled and he was covered from head to foot in slime and filth; otherwise he was quite naked. His head was, like Hidimba’s, half a great bat’s and he had wings behind him and fangs like needles in his mouth with which he drank the hot blood of creatures he preyed on. From the look in his ochre eyes, he obviously saw them as his next meal: and a delicious one, because rakshasas prefer sweet human flesh above every other meat.

Vidura paused and you could have heard the softest sigh in the crowded sabha. Taking his time, perhaps enjoying the court’s discomfort, the king’s brother took up his story again.

At first, Yudhishtira made no answer to the rakshasa, because Draupadi had fainted in his arms. Kirmira advanced another step and let out a roar that silenced the rest of the jungle. Birds flew from the dreadful baying; wolves and tigers fled in fear.

The Pandavas stood their ground, Arjuna fingering the Gandiva and Bheema’s eyes beginning to shine. The rakshasa growled, “I am Kirmira, king of the jungle. Dare you not answer me, humans? I asked who you are.”

Yudhishtira said, “We are the Pandavas. I am Yudhishtira and these are my brothers Bheema, Arjuna, Sahadeva and Nakula. We have been banished for thirteen years from Indraprastha. This is our queen Panchali. This is Dhaumya, our priest and these good brahmanas have come into exile with us. Now tell us what you want.”

Kirmira gave a start when he heard Bheema’s name; his eyes shone brighter. His black wings quivering, Kirmira laughed. He said, “Why, I will drink your blood, of course, what else could I want with you? But tonight I am especially pleased.”

Arjuna asked, “Why is that?”

The rakshasa rolled his eyes. He slavered a little more, then, said, “Since someone killed my brother, the peerless Baka, I have tried to find his killer. I ranged the land of Bharata, questioning my brother’s people. I first thought some of them had killed him, but the truth was much stranger.”

His eyes never left Bheema’s face. When he spoke of Baka, his voice, which contained a tiger’s roar, a jackal’s howl and a rat’s chirrup, sounded almost human.

Kirmira went on, “Yes, the truth was strange indeed. I heard that magnificent Baka had not been killed by another rakshasa, but by a human. I doubted this; for which ten men can kill one of us? Any rakshasa is strong as a hundred humans. This man had killed my brother, who was the strongest rakshasa on earth, with his bare hands.”

He paused, scratching his jowl thoughtfully with a talon like a dagger and squinting at Bheema. His breath stank so much when he spoke, the Pandavas drew back from him.

Kirmira continued, “Once, some months before Baka was killed, when we still hunted together, we heard that a human had killed our childhood friend Hidimba. We did not believe what we heard, until my brother died as well; and on my wanderings after he died, I finally learnt the name of his killer. I heard the name of Bheema the Pandava.

Now, fate has brought you to me in my own jungle. When I drink your blood, Bheema, my revenge will be complete.”

Bheema handed his torch to Sahadeva. Arjuna raised the Gandiva, but Bheema stopped him. “This beast comes as a Godsend for me to vent my wrath.”

With a roar, the son of the wind sprang at Kirmira. Like two tempests, they fought, growling, roaring, hissing, howling, Kirmira pouring out a stream of hot abuse. Their blows shook the earth. When each one saw the other couldn’t be felled by punches, they pulled up trees and battered each other. Ten trees each they smashed, while the others stood at the edge of the clearing, even the Pandavas dazed by the ferocity of the fight. The rakshasa fought to avenge his dead brother and Bheema to quieten the fire of the shame of Hastinapura.